~Trigger Happy Halliday
Friday, December 30, 2011
~Trigger Happy Halliday
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Between my day job, writing, and the demands of family, I don't often get much time to watch TV. Most of my television viewing comes from DVDs. So, when my daughter asked me to pick up copies of the Mad Men seasons for her when they went on sale, I took a peek at Season One and decided to put it in and watch it while I was sorting and shredding papers.
I got hooked.
I love the fashions of the sixties. And while I would never give up my jeans and hoodies, seeing the women in Mad Men dressed to the nines made me a bit nostalgic--and yearning for a more glamorous time. The fabrics are colorful, the designs smart and classy. And it got me wondering if I could pull off these fashions like the women in the show do. Unfortunately--or maybe fortunately--we'll never know.
As a writer, I am also impressed by the quality of the writing. I can't tell you how many times I've heard a line of dialogue and thought, "Oh, wow! That writer nailed it!"
The acting isn't bad either.
I've finished Season Four. And while there have been times I've wanted to toss something at one of the characters on the TV screen, I am still very glad I put that first DVD in the player.
What TV show is a must-see for you? Any show you can't miss or is a must DVR?
While I have you here, may I take this opportunity to wish you a safe, happy, and prosperous New Year filled with wonderful books and incredible stories!
They say what you do on New Year's, you do the year-round. I plan to make certain I find some time to write.
Posted by Kathy Bacus at 4:45 AM
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
They say you learn something new every day. Well recently, I learned I'm not a plumber. Now some of you may have already realized that. I sure wish I had.
Case in point: I'd been after my husband for several weeks to fix a running toilet. It's a waste of water, it's annoying and worst of all, when the house is quiet at the end of the day, it becomes that niggling thing that makes me feel like we haven't quite gotten enough done.
So the other night, when the house was quiet and all I could hear was the blasted toilet running, I decided to do something about it. It's just plumbing, right? Pipes and ball plungers are logical. They follow the rules of physics. I can reason my way through it (or so I tell myself). And just because it's 11:50 p.m. doesn't mean I can't start a new project.
I went and got tools from the basement, I put on a baseball hat (not sure how that was supposed to help, but I did it), I lifted the back lid and started fiddling. Now I am proud to say I figured out the problem. The little tube with the ball on the end needed to be out of the water and the water would stop running. But that's where my expertise ended. How to get the little ball to stay out of the water? Holding it up all night wasn't an option. See? Logical.
While figuring out what to do next, I bent the little tube back, just to see how far it could go. I was curious. Don't you want to know how far it can go? No, you don't. Snap! The tube broke. Then the one attached broke. Water shot up to the ceiling. It was like a geyser. Water shot out toward me, in case I wasn't soaked enough. My husband was out of town (or else he would have talked me out of this at the baseball cap stage). I call him to ask him how the heck I was supposed to shut off the water. He told me about the valve on the side of the commode (proving yet again that I'm not a plumber).
The bathroom is filling with water faster than the Titanic. I'm on my hands and knees, trying to turn the knob, only it will not budge (no doubt fastened by someone much stronger than me). I'm reduced to begging a toilet knob to turn while scrambling through my mental rolodex to decide which neighbor to wake at midnight in order to turn the knob in a bathroom that now has at least a half an inch of water on the floor.
Finally, it turns. The water ceases. I'm soaked to the bone and the toilet is way, way broken. I clean everything up, thank my frantic husband, take a shower and ponder just why I thought I was a plumber in the first place.
Want to know my theory? I think it has something to do with the fact that writers are curious people. The same thing that makes me want to ride with Harley bikers and their dogs is the same thing that made me want to explore the intricacies of toilet maintenance. If the tube hadn't snapped, I might have succeeded (Don't tell my husband I said that. He's still a bit horrified.)
And while things didn't work out the other night, I don't think I want to change. Well, until the next home crisis.
Posted by Angie Fox at 3:00 AM
Monday, December 26, 2011
Or the new year - same thing.
2012 is upon us in a week. Are you a goals person? Do you make charts and spreadsheets plotting your mini-destinations during the year? I do. I will be making up my work schedule for 2012 this week, trying to fit in all the things I need to do and some of the things I want to do. It's going to be a very busy 2012, but hopefully, a lot will get done.
Something I started working on last week is using a novel-writing software. I've been thinking I need to try something to see if I can better organize my fiction writing, especially writing series books. Flipping through every page of a document to find the color of car someone was driving is simply not the most efficient method to write.
So I downloaded a trial of Scrivener for PC. And I have to say, that I'm really enjoying it. It's simple to use the basic things and as long as I do the work of taking proper notes, it will allow me to have all my research and info right there on the same screen I'm writing the document on. Scrivener also allows you to break up your work into chunks - like chapters or even scenes. As I sometimes write books out of order, that's really cool. I can write a random scene and then drag and drop it later on where I want it to fit in the book. It also has a corkboard (printable) with little stickies that have a synopsis of each chapter written on them. So you can see your book at a glance.
Are you planning on incorporating any productivity tools into your new year? If so, what are they? I may want them, too. :)
Posted by Jana DeLeon at 7:46 AM
Saturday, December 24, 2011
I am also running a Twitter contest with a chance to win a $25 Barnes and Noble gift card. Just look for the hashtag #Christie_Craig and retweet the message. You could be a winner!! Then check back here at Killer Fiction on January 6 when I announce the winner.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Happy holidays! My gift to you is a great guest blog from author Barbra Annino. She's giving away 3 copies of her e-book, so be sure to leave a comment and you're entered to win!
Take it away, Barbra!
I spent a great deal of time with my Irish grandmother and her sisters when I was young. Anyone familiar with the culture of the Emerald Isle knows it is steeped in superstition and supernatural phenomenon. Ghost stories weren't told around a dim campfire at our house. They were shared over coffee, cake and Marlboros. They were passed along like a saltshaker, not to be feared--"because the dead cannot hurt you, only the living can"--but to be revered as tiny lessons gifted to us by the dearly departed.
I used to watch the women in my family share recipes and swap stories that would scare the pants off my friends, but these women weren't fazed by the shocking tales they told. Often I would imagine--listening to them wax on about the prom date that disappeared through the cemetery bars as they whipped up batches of fresh baked bread--that they were witches implementing spells into their food.
And perhaps they were. Because I believe there's a little bit of witch in every woman. Although the potions may only be as exotic as a Cabernet and the spell may come in the form of a kind ear and chocolate layer cake, still, there is strength within us that can transcend any problem. There's something magical about that.
I wanted to create a character who had that kind of strength and that special form of magic. Stacy Justice, the protagonist in my gemstone series, is a strong woman who worries more about her family than her boyfriend. She's more interested in excelling at work than the latest shoe sale and above all, she tries to do the right thing. Which isn't always easy when your family is driving you crazy, your grandmother insists you are witch with a high calling and oh yeah, someone is trying to kill you.
The series is laugh-out-loud fun with a mix of mystery, magic and paranormal fantasy all rolled into one. You can learn more at my website: http://www.barbraannino.com. Or visit my Facebook page Barbra Annino.
Opal Fire, Stacy Justice Book One
Reporter Stacy Justice did not expect to be set on fire that night, but being raised by witches prepares one for life's little surprises. In fact, she isn't the least bit shocked when her cousin is accused of arson, or when her divorced grandparents sign up for a marriage retreat, or even when her own boyfriend hauls her off to jail. But when a decades-old corpse is discovered within the walls of her cousin's bar, even Stacy is rattled. Now, someone wants her dead and she finds herself dodging angry motorists, exploding chickens and a very creepy man who lurks around every corner. As she begins to unearth long-buried secrets, Stacy learns that even those closest to her have something to hide- and she's about to discover a destiny she never imagined.
As a special gift to readers of this blog, I'm offering three copies FREE. Just leave a comment and random.org will choose the winners. Delivery of ebooks via a Smashwords coupon.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
This week my son and I are celebrating Hanukkah. We make a big deal out of it. We collect menorahs (ever year since he was two we've gotten a new one), we play dreidel, we decorate the house, I make latkes and blintzes, he gets a gift every night and we try to do something special every day of the 8 day holiday.
Most people would say that as Jewish holidays go, Hanukkah is a pretty minor one and the only reason to make a big deal out of it is because you feel the need to compete with Christmas. They would also say that Hanukkah is a celebration of "The miracle of the light." See (as the story goes) back in the day some bad guys destroyed our temple and when we got it back we started to get it together again and inside that temple there was this sacred lamp that only had enough oil left to last 1 day but it was going to take 8 days to make more oil for it and then, miracle of miracles the oil that should have only lasted 1 day lasted for 8. That's why we light a candle on the menorah every night for 8 nights.
There is some truth to all that. Hanukkah isn't close to being a High Holiday and all the fuss about Christmas is...inspiring. But that's not my main motivation for making Hanukkah one of the most important holidays of the year within my household. It's also true that while the Holiday is nicknamed the, "Festival Of Light," that piece of the story is really a very small part of what we're celebrating and when rabbis talk about the holiday they usually only spend a few minutes talking about the oil. The greater message of the holiday is what makes me love it so much. Much like with Passover the overall themes of Hanukkah are as follows:
4) Standing up for what's right
However unlike with the story of Passover there isn't a lot less divine intervention within the story of Hanukkah. This time, God doesn't give a Jewish leader assurances of success or tell him or her what the right thing to do is and yet the heroes of the story do it anyway. In the beginning of the Hanukkah we learn that the Jews were living as a minority group within a society that was completely tolerant of their religion and allowed them to take an active part of public life. And then there was a regime change and the practice of Judaism was outlawed. The Jews fought back and although they were greatly outnumbered they defeated the mighty and seeming superior army of our suppressors. Jews don't celebrate war which I think is why there is so much focus on the lamp but realistically we are celebrating a victory. A victory of right over wrong. The implication of the story is that societies should allow everyone to practice the religion they want to practice assuming it's not physically hurting anyone. We're told that even when we know that the odds are against us we should stand up for that right. And we celebrate the survival of the Jewish people.
I like that. So yes, we go all out for Hanukkah, so much so that I may have one of the few Jewish children who doesn't envy Christmas. But he also understands the message of the holiday and regardless of how religious or secular you are it's hard not to see how Hanukkah is kinda a big deal.
--Kyra "Fashionista Fatale" Davis
Posted by kyradavis at 10:06 AM
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Christmas will happen and everything will be where it's supposed to be. My kids will be happy with what Santa brings them. My mom will love the mittens and hat I'm knitting her. We don't have overlapping schedules of things to do and places to be. All is right with the world.
I even got my present early. I got a dead tree removed. Oh, I didn't ask for that. It was something we were always going to do. The cedar tree had been hit by lightning a few summers ago. The top was sheared off and has long since been sliced up and burned in our fireplace. But the bottom half of the tree, the jagged, dead wood that loomed 40 feet over the house, that was still there, threatening to fall on every adorable elementary school kid who walks by our house twice a day.
A week ago, I was home with my son - who was sick. This guy rings the doorbell and introduces himself as "Spider." Spider was in the neighborhood - he motioned to the flatbed out front loaded with logs. He noticed our tree and said he'd give us a good quote. I gave the card to Mr. Assassin.
Who called me yesterday and said, "Oh yeah, and Spider is coming over to take down the tree for $300 today." I was pulling out of the driveway on a stealth mission to buy my daughter's presents (I said I had to go get tampons - she didn't want to go with me after that). Spider walks up to the car with a grin.
Spider is probably in his thirties, and weighs maybe 98 lbs. He's got long, stringy hair, a huge slurpee in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
Him: "Hey, man! I'm here to do the tree thing."
Me: "I can see that. Give me a minute to tell the kids (to lock the doors) not to let the dogs out (find their cell phones and take the safety off the flamethrower)."
Him: "That's cool."
I went in to make sure the kids were okay with a dude named Spider cutting down the tree in the yard with me gone. They assured me they were and locked up as I left. Meg, the teenager, insisted I go get "you know...that weird stuff," as she wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully.
The tree is down, just like Spider said. The kids were fine. They didn't even realize he was out there. And I got some of my shopping done. That is my Christmas miracle. At least, that's how I see it.
Posted by Leslie Langtry at 2:07 AM
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Does your mother tell you who to date? Does she meddle in your life? Has she embarrassed you in front of your friends? Has she ever made you feel . . . crazy? Believe me, I know all about mom’s sticking their noses in one’s life. Everyone’s love life. You see, I’d jumped on a plane heading to my mom’s in California to escape a bad divorce. I’d been in the sunny state for less than eight hours when Mom has this tall handsome fellow show up on her doorstep. Can you believe that the day before she’d actually whipped out my old wedding photos to show this man my picture? But holy moly, the last thing I wanted was another man in my life. Ahh, but all I can say is, thank goodness, this handsome fellow was patient, and oh, yes, I’m forever grateful that in this one instance, my mama did know best. You see, this handsome fellow, Steve Craig, turned out to be a keeper. Not that all of my mama’s advice worked out so well. She liked the first husband, too. And there was the dye job she gave me that couldn’t be reversed and led to me wearing a hat for two months. And I can remember the fashion advice that, thank goodness, I was smart enough to avoid.
But, no matter how bad my mother is, or yours for that matter, she can’t begin to compete with Cali’s mom in Murder, Mayhem and Mama, my book being released electronically today. Cali’s mother wins all the meddling-mom awards. You see, Cali’s mom actually comes back from the dead to play match maker and to well… try to prevent her daughter’s dead-beat ex from hurting Cali. No, Cali’s mom’s not appearing in a puff of smoke wearing chains, but she does appear chain smoking in Cali’s dreams. And those dreams seem just a bit too real.
And yes, Cali’s mom is right about her ex-boyfriend being a weasel, and her mom’s desire to neuter the man, isn’t too far from what Cali would like to do herself. But now, her dead mom is pushing Cali toward the sexy detective, a very annoying sexy detective who thinks Cali still has a thing for the ex. Never mind that she learns the ex is now being accused of murder. Why would Cali want anything more to do with that guy? She would have never gotten involved with the man if she hadn’t been so stressed out about her mom’s dying. And why would Cali start falling for the cop who can be a bit of jerk? Surely, Mama doesn’t know best.
Or does she?
Now most mothers aren’t that bad. They may offer advice that lands you with perm that makes you look like a girl in the sixties, or a color that looks like it belongs in box of crayons and not on your head. They might fix you up with a guy they like because he has a nice career, but is short on personality and hair. But they don’t try to run your life—especially from the great beyond. But maybe there are exceptions. Has your mother, dead or alive, ever tried to play match maker for you? Has she tried to break up your relationship with a guy because he had one too many tattoos? (Granted in Cali’s case, her mother had her reasons!) So, I want to know, does your mother meddle in your life? Tell me a mother meddling story, good or bad, and I’ll chose one poster to win a $25 gift card to either Barnes and Noble or Amazon.
Check out the book trailer for Murder, Mayhem and Mama at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOjXesDUptM,
Monday, December 19, 2011
When I watch one or another movie version of A Christmas Carol, I’m always struck by the fact that Ebenezer Scrooge hasn’t taken the time to change the sign for his business from “Scrooge & Marley” despite the fact that his business partner, Jacob Marley, has been dead for years. Although the failure to change the sign is a subtle indicator of Scrooge’s penny-pinching ways, it’s still creepy to have a long-dead man’s name hanging over the door of the business.
The people in our lives bring out different aspects of our personality. Some bring out the best in us, others the worst. Given that Scrooge is visited by the ghost of Jacob Marley wearing a long, heavy chain forged through a life of exploitation and greed, I imagine that Scrooge and Marley were of the latter variety, feeding off each other’s greed and insensitivity, together creating an evil, selfish synergy.
I can’t help but wonder - might Ebenezer have been a better man if he’d had a different business partner? What if Scrooge’s partner had been a different Marley?
Bob Marley would have made the perfect business partner. While he might have smoked the profits, he’d have happily shared a spliff with the uptight Ebenezer and perhaps gotten the old coot to loosen up a bit.
The golden lab from Marley and Me would’ve made a great partner for Scrooge, too. Hard to stay in a crabby mood with an adorable puppy bounding around and licking your toes.
I'm lucky to have a wonderful husband who brings out my goofy side and makes me feel anything is possible. I also have some wonderful friends who inspire my creativity and imagination. Who brings out the best in you? Let's chat about it!
Have a wonderful holiday season!
Diane Kelly is the author of the Death and Taxes humorous mystery series. Visit Diane at www.dianekelly.com.
Posted by Diane Kelly at 12:01 AM
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Today, Susan Muller is giving away an e-copy of her book, The Secret on Forest Bend. And to make it even better, I’m also giving the winner a copy of any of my backlist. So make sure you leave a comment to be entered to win a copy of Susan’s and any of my books. It can be my romances or my YAs.
I have a treat for you guys today. I would like to introduce you to a dear friend and another writer who’s friendship is proof of just how small our world has become. It’s also proof that when the universe wants you to meet someone, it will keep throwing you together until you finally connect.
Susan Muller is my walking buddy, who isn’t walking right now. (You’ll read more about that in her blog.) Susan and I met at my local chapter’s Romance Writers of America meeting. Well, that’s where I thought we met. Shortly later, she informed me that we’d met earlier. That we had waved and spoken while I was walking in her/my neighborhood. Cool, we lived in the same neighborhood. I had to apologize and told that when I walk, I’m in my own little world and seldom recognize anyone.
We shortly learned that she lived on the street back behind my house. However, little did we know at the time, we had other connections. I was in her backyard and peeked through her fence and said, “Damn! That’s my backyard.” We’d shared backyard fences for almost 20 years and didn’t know it. Yup, now we can put a ladder against the fence and have a conversation. We’ve actually passed manuscripts, oranges, crawfish, and fresh grown tomatoes over that fence. Ahh, but it gets even stranger. Because not too long after we started walking, she introduced me to her dog. Right then, I knew Susan’s version of how we first met was as wrong my had been. The woman, didn’t just live behind me, she’d been in my house. I’d saved her from a heartache and she didn’t even know it.
Years earlier, while I was walking, a black lap who looked just like my black lab--even had the gray snout and everything--came up to me on my walk. For a second, I thought it was my Jake. But he was a tad bigger than my ol’ boy. Nevertheless, the dog decided I was a sucker and he followed me home. Not wanting the animal to continue to the main road that had a lot of traffic, I took him into my house. I looked at Jake and the other dog side by side, and darn if other than a few extra pounds on her dog, the two dogs were identical. I called the number on the tag. The owner quickly came to pick up the dog. While I didn’t recognize Susan as the dog owner, I recognized her dog. So actually, our lives were connected even before we knew it. Who knew she was also a writer? Well, all I can say is that it’s a small world. And I’m glad after several times of having our paths cross, we finally took the message the universe was telling us and became friends. So here’s Susan, and a bit about her book.
I’ve been thinking a lot about walking lately. Mostly because I can’t. Several weeks ago I developed a stress fracture in my foot. The doctor instructed me to stay off my feet and wear a lovely black boot with Velcro straps that cost as much as a pair of Jimmy Choos. The next week was my high school reunion. Show of hands here, how many think I wore the black boot to my reunion? Of course I didn’t. Which may be why I still can’t walk without limping.
But limping isn’t my problem, walking is. For years, I’ve worked out plot holes and writers block while walking my dog around the neighborhood. Buster is a 120 pound black lab, and he was well into middle age when I found him five years ago. At first we walked about forty-five minutes, but as he aged we cut it down to thirty minutes, then fifteen. The last time I took him around the block, I had to sit on the curb and let him rest.
Luckily, on one walk about a year and a half ago, I passed Christie, walking the other way. Shortly later, we’ve walked together four or five days a week. We walk twice as long and twice as far and I’m half as tired, because Christie can tell a good story. You knew that, right? After all, she writes three to four books a year. You’ve probably heard her mattress story, and the one where her husband set the lawnmower on fire. Those are just the stories she can tell in public. We brainstorm and bounce ideas off each other and she’s improved my writing 110%. Since I’ve been sitting with my foot propped up, my writing output has slowed to a trickle. I may never get this next book finished. I miss walking with Christie.
Buster’s way too old to go for power walks these days, but he does love a ride in the car. When Buster got too old to jump in the back of our Explorer, and too fat for us to lift him, my husband bought a smaller car. Oh, he’ll tell you that he bought the car for better gas mileage, but I’ve known the man for many years, and he bought it for the dog. Even with the smaller car, we have to back up to the curb and help Buster in.
In my novel The Secrets on Forest Bend, the hero, Adam, has a yellow cat named Rover. Rover was the terror of the neighborhood when he decided to adopt Adam seven years ago. He’s bigger than most dogs and twice as mean. Lately, Rover has developed diabetes and Adam must give him a shot twice a day, something that’s not always convenient. Adam’s a big, tough police detective, and he claims Rover is just his roommate, but you read the following excerpt and tell me, if this isn’t love, what is?
The sky was still dark when Adam rose on one elbow and nuzzled Jillian’s ear. “You’re going to hate me, but I have to go.” He nibbled her shoulder and felt himself come awake again.
She turned to face him, sleepy-eyed. “Go? Can’t you leave for work from here?”
How bad would it be if Rover missed one round of medication? He lifted the sheet and gazed at her body. Damn he wanted to stay longer, but if he didn’t leave soon he wouldn’t be able to stand up. “No. I have to give my cat a shot.”
What about you? What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done for an animal?
Check out more about Susan on her Web site: www.susancmuller.com.
And here’s here back cover blurb. It’s an excellent read, guys. So make sure you snag your own copy.
Another day . . . another dead body.
When Detective Adam Campbell learns that a WWII gun is connected to several murders he’s investigating, he hopes that tracking down the killer will be as easy as tracing the gun’s history. When he meets Jillian Whitmeyer, the last known owner of the weapon, the case becomes anything but simple.
Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
Adam soon learns that people who get close to Jillian have a bad habit of turning up dead. Jillian claims that the spirit of her sister, accidentally killed with that same gun, is responsible for the deaths. She warns Adam that he is likely to become the next victim. Adam’s been a lousy judge of women in the past and this one’s obviously a nut case. Or is she? How does a just-the-facts detective deal with a ghostly serial killer and the sexy-as-hell sister she won’t set free?
Friday, December 16, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye
I hate to shop. I really do. The only store I enjoy going to is the Apple Store--I mean, it's like an FAO Schwarz for adults. Just the thought of going to the mall between Thanksgiving and President's Day is enough to make my ass twitch--after all my mother has been dragging me through stores and shopping malls all my life.
I had my first panic attack at Macy's in Herald Square. I walked very young, and my older sister didn't. My sister was in the stroller, and I was walking when my mom pushed us into the elevator at Macy's. It was winter, and back then all the men wore long wool coats and hats. I got stuffed into the corner, surrounded by wool and I didn't know where my mom was. I was maybe two years old at the time... I haven't liked crowded elevators since. Then there was that time mom had me sitting on the moving belt you're supposed to hold on to on the escalator. She must have reached for my sister and let go of me. I went flying over the side and landed on the jewelry case below. Yeah, I don't much care for escalators either...
I thought it was only fair that since I'm in the middle of my blog tour for Wild Thing, I'd torture my hero, Hunter Kincaid, a little more and send him out Christmas shopping.
All you have to do is comment to win one of two copies of Wild Thing! Be sure to write out your email address for me so I can let you know if you win.
I hope you enjoy the shopping trip. It's the closest I've come to the mall since the last time I saw my mother in October.
Hunter Kincaid’s definition of hell was going shopping with his sister, Karma. He liked shopping all right, as long as it was at Home Depot, REI, McU Sports, The Elephant’s Perch or just about any other home improvement or sporting good store. Yeah, there was nothing like shopping for building materials, crampons, climbing ropes, kayaks, rafts, hiking boots, skis, and mountain bike—all worth while things to buy.
Hunter turned to his sister, Karma and dodged a pack of teenagers. “Tell me again why we’re in the mall?”
Karma pushed past a family with strollers and ducked into a store called Hot Topic. “To buy your wife Christmas presents.”
“What more can Toni want? I already bought her a set of skis, bindings, boots, poles, bibs, a powder jacket, and a parka.”
Karma turned and rolled her eyes. “Toni doesn’t ski.”
“Yet. “ He smiled and rocked back on his heels. “She just needs the right equipment and a me—she’s married to the best ski instructor around.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe Toni doesn’t want to ski?”
Karma couldn’t be serious. Who wouldn’t want to ski? “Nah, Toni is going to love skiing. What’s not to love?”
“She’s still not at all comfortable being in the wilderness, and most ski resorts look like woods on mountains, remember?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Toni’s plenty comfortable at home, and our home is on a mountain beside a ski resort.”
“Well, just in case she’s not overly excited about you forcing her to ski, I thought it might be helpful to diversify your gifts. Hot Topic is one of Toni’s favorite stores.”
Hunter looked around and had to admit the place looked like the inside of Toni’s closet. It was like Goth heaven. He shrugged. “Okay, what does she want? It looks as if she’s got most of the store at home already.” At least now he knew where she shopped, not that he’d ever want to join her. There were just some things couple shouldn’t do together. Shopping for girl stuff was one of them. He looked around and saw a half dozen of graphic T-shirts Toni already owned. When he spotted the one she was wearing the first time he laid eyes on her, he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed Karma into the shoe section where she picked up a pair of black stiletto boots that had to go above the knee. They were sexy as hell.
Karma tried them on over her tight jeans. “Toni’s been drooling over these for months.”
“You don’t think she’d wear them outside the bedroom do you?”
Karma shrugged and giggled. “You know Toni.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” He rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. “Okay, I’ll buy them.” He’d just have to make sure she never wore them in public. Toni had no idea how hot she looked, and he didn’t want anyone else knowing it either. Good thing he had ways of distracting her. “What else?”
Karma went around the store picking out hats, fingerless gloves, arm warmers, and stockings. God help him if Toni wore the fishnet stockings with the naughty-school-girl skirt Karma added to the pile, and those boots—he’d be a goner. He paid for the purchases and grabbed the bags. “Where to next?”
Karma slid her arm through his and headed in the opposite direction of where they were parked. Not a good sign. “Victoria Secret.”
“Kill me now.”
“I know for a fact you like Toni wearing nice lingerie.”
“Yeah, and I don’t even mind hand washing it. I just don’t want to buy it. Besides, the way I look at it, it’s more of a present for me than it is for her. Wouldn’t that be a little selfish of me? It would be like buying myself a Christmas present.”
Karma rolled her eyes. “Aw come on, big brother. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few scraps of satin and lace.”
“Not afraid, but damn, Karma. The last thing I want to do is shop for naughty lingerie with my little sister.”
“Time to put your big-boy boxers on Hunter and get over yourself.”
“I thought I did that when I bought the boots.”
Karma just chuckled and led him right into what he was sure was the bowls of hell.
So tell me, do you have a shopping phobia? Has anyone else taken a header off the belt of an old escalator and landed on a jewelry case? Am I the only one with a fear escalators and crowded Macy's elevators?
Monday, December 12, 2011
You know how the song goes. The big question is, are you ready for it?
I will admit to being partially ready. The house is looking good as I'm almost finished with Christmas decorations. I'd hoped to get an earlier start this year, but book deadlines and life put me off schedule. So now, I'll probably finish in time to start taking it all down. (sigh) Or maybe I'll just leave it up through winter. Hey, it is kinda pretty, and I did that one year when I was working a million hours a week as a contractor. Finally, my brother came over to my house in May and carried the entire tree, decorations and all, into the garage.
So first up today, I'm going to share a couple of decor picture, because it's so pretty with my signature turquoise and a great Christmas silver. Here's the living room - and yes, it's actually cold enough in Dallas to have a fire!
And this is the long counter that separates the kitchen from the living area/hallway.
And the final thought I'll leave you with today with a letter from Santa that I got in a random email. I figured you'd all like it.
Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate)!!!
Posted by Jana DeLeon at 7:06 AM
Friday, December 09, 2011
I was supposed to have a guest blogger today for my blogging maternity leave, but in my dusorganized state, I can't remember who'd signed up for today. Mea culpa. So you're stuck with me.
And I apologize for that, since this post may be somewhat less than coherent. You see, I'm tired. Ridiculously tired. And with good reason. I was discharged from the hospital a week ago today.
Yes, that's right, Killer Readers. I had my new baby boy last Monday (November 28)! I was actually supposed to have a scheduled c-section this past Monday (Dec 5), but the little man apparently takes after his big sis and decided to make his debut just under 2 weeks before his due date (which was supposed to be tomorrow, actually). Although he's nowhere near as impatient as his sister, since she chose to be born 6 weeks early. He stuck around in there a full 4 weeks longer.
(Speaking of his big sis...please wish her a happy birthday. She turns 2 today! Time flies!)
Anyway, even though I had a full month longer to plan and get things ready this time, invariably I ended up surprised and without anything done. Which was totally my fault, of course. I figured since I'd had a baby literally just 2 years ago (2 years ago today, actually!), there wasn't much I needed other than baby boy clothes. I had everything else -- carseat, crib, Pack n Play, bouncy seat, monitor, swing, etc.
Easy peasy. I was set.
What I didn't count on, however, was how much bigger my boobs would be this time. We're talking serious porn star range here. If I didn't know better, I'd think that the surgery I had last week included implants. Very, very large implants. If I can just lose this extra tummy fat I could probably do a centerfold in Playboy.
I was totally caught off guard with this birth and hadn't even packed my bag yet. So I spent the next couple of days dictating a list of things for my husband to bring me from home. Of course, nursing bras were at the top of the list. But no biggie. He could just find them in my top dresser drawer.
Except they no longer fit. Like, not at ALL. I stopped nursing this past March and they fit me just fine then. They'd fit me all throughout the nearly 15 months I nursed my daughter. But not with my son. I was a 38 C then.
My old nursing bras fit me while I was still in the hospital, but gradually became tighter and tighter shortly after I got home, until finally I couldn't take it any longer.
By Saturday night I was in sheer agony. What had once been a super comfy sleeping bra made from stretchy soft cotton had transformed overnight into a medieval torture device, binding me so tight I thought I would pass out. Corset? Pshaw. They have nothing on my old nursing bras.
So I took off the offending garment and was rewarded within a few seconds by two large wet spots on the front of my shirt. Niiiiiiice.
My mom offered to run out and get some new bras for me, but I couldn't even begin to guess what size I might be. No, I had to go to the store myself and try them on.
But I couldn't bear to strap myself back into that horrid contraption. But I also couldn't go out in public dripping, either.
So I came up with the brilliant solution of shoving a burp cloth under the front of my shirt. In my Percocet-ridden mind, it seemed ideal. It stopped the spreading dampness and provided camouflage from my enormous protruding nips. (I was afraid I was going to put someone's eye out with those things!)
I walked into the kitchen to grab a drink of water before heading out and was immediately greeted by the same question three different times from three different people (my mom, my dad, and my husband). What the heck was that under my shirt?
I proudly told them about my brilliant burp cloth idea. Fail. Even without hearing what each of the others had to say, Mom, Dad, and Mr. Brice all told me I looked like I was shoplifting. They begged me not to wear the burp cloth.
Fine. I put a jacket on over my t-shirt and kept my arms crossed tightly the entire time inside the store. (Needless to say, I brought along a stash of nursing pads in my purse so I wouldn't ruin the bras I was trying on.)
In the end, it was determined that I'm now a 38E. Mr. Brice is THRILLED.
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Posted by kyradavis at 12:44 AM
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
I just got impatient. I couldn't wait to see what was under all that dark, red hair I'd had for so long. So, on a Saturday, I texted my hairdresser to ask what setting I should set the dog trimmer to - and she graciously offered to cut it off Sunday morning. At her house. In her pajamas. I got donuts and went home and was reading the paper as my kids woke up and did the cartoon double-take when they saw me. They didn't know I was going to do it, but hey! Donuts! (Okay, so I ate four.)
The next day, I went in to work. People who saw me before Thanksgiving break thought I'd come back with my chin-length, two tone hair. Several people thought I was a visitor and asked if I needed assistance.
I went to an alumni mixer last week. A lot of people there hadn't seen me in a while. It was in a bar with black lights. My head glowed like a blazing, white beacon. They only recognized me by my voice.
My friend Todd said I resemble a female Race Bannon. I guess before that, I looked like a female Dr. Benton Quest. At least I don't look like a female Bandit.
The big shock I guess is that people always knew to look for the tall redhead in the crowd. I've confused them. And that's awesome. Now, I just have to get used to the cartoon double-take I do when I pass a mirror.
Posted by Leslie Langtry at 4:30 AM
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Okay, I have a confession to make. And yeah, I know what you’re probably thinking. Saying that I have a confession to share makes it sound as though I’m about to confess to having buried a few (more) bodies in the compost heap in my backyard. But trust me, this confession is nothing bad—to the contrary, I think it’s fabulous news and I hope you will, too. So, what am I confessing? Only that my newest release is almost here, and I’m fifteen different shades of excited.
I hope you will be excited, too.
Okay, so enough teasing you. My latest release is called Murder, Mayhem and Mama, and it’s going live for Amazon’s Kindle and Barnes and Noble’s Nook on Tuesday, December 20th. This book is really one of the “books of my heart,” and I’m so tickled that I get to share it with you. You see, MM&M is actually one of the four books I sold back in 2006 when I broke my long dry spell. Unfortunately, the company who bought the rights to publish my baby went under a short time later. Since I’d also sold my first humorous romantic suspense to Dorchester, and MM&M is a little, well, “different,” I shelved the book. Until now.
So what’s different about this book? Well, first let me tell you what’s the same. Murder, Mayhem and Mama has got the humor. For sure, it has a hot romance and a tough cop hero. It has a heroine, with a good heart who can be a tad sassy. You’re gonna find my forever-present pet in there, too, because I think our pets make us better humans. The plot has plenty of heart. Yup, you might shed a tear. And you can bet you’ll find plenty of suspense and action to keep you turning pages.
So what’s different? Well, Mama is different. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking—But Christie, you always have some whacky family member in your books so how is that different? Well, in this book, Mama is a little more than just whacky. Mostly because Mama is just a little bit dead. Okay, she’s more than a little bit. She’s 100% dead. But like all mamas, she feels it’s her responsibility to watch out for her daughter. And until she knows her daughter is going to be okay, Mama’s just not gonna take that big leap into the afterlife.
Here’s the cover and blurb for Murder, Mayhem and Mama:
Being a mama is hard. But the job's even tougher when you're dead.
unlucky-in-love daughter needs her now more than ever. Before Mama can
chain-smoke her way to heaven, she's gotta make sure Cali's deadbeat
ex-boyfriend doesn't get her daughter killed.
Grief Sucks. Love Heals.
Cali lost her mom to cancer. Detective Brit Lowell lost his partner to
murder. Now he's in the mood to take down some dirtbags and Cali's ex just
happens to be a dirtbag leaving a trail of dead bodies behind him. Can
Brit trust this beautiful woman to help take down her ex? Can Cali look
past this sexy cop's hard exterior to trust him with her heart? Can life
get any crazier when Mama starts meddling from the grave? Only one thing is
for sure--none of it will matter, unless they catch a killer before the
killer catches them.
Honestly, guys, this is the best Christmas gift I ever gave myself. And I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Posted by Christie Craig at 3:30 AM
Monday, December 05, 2011
This past Saturday, my husband, our kids, and I went to see our niece perform in the Nutcracker, a fun tradition we’ve carried on for five years now. Seeing our niece progress over the years from a tiny gingerbread girl wielding a wooden spoon, to an angel, a soldier, a Sugar Plum Fairy attendant, and now a party guest has been so fun. And, okay, I have to admit that the guy who danced in the Arabian coffee part was one hot latte – dark-skinned, muscular beyond belief, agile and athletically graceful. When my husband noticed me drooling, I told him it was because the dancer had a shaved head and I have a thing for bald guys (my husband being one himself). Good save, huh? I probably shouldn’t mention that my son renamed the show the “Buttcracker” after noticing a male dancer’s tights lodged firmly between the cheeks of his derriere. (Yep, we’re a classy bunch.)
I love the theme of Holiday Magic in the story. The concept of a toy coming to life has been done over and over again in movies, but it’s one we never tire of - Pinocchio, Babes in Toyland, The Indian in the Cupboard, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Small Soldiers, Toy Story, and even the Chuckie movies – yikes!
The idea got me thinking. If I could bring something in my house to life, what would it be?
We have a sculpture of a solider that my daughter made out of clear strapping tape in an art class. If he came to life, he’d be able to crack the nuts of any intruder who posed a threat to my house or family. Still, I’m not sure how I’d feel about having a machine gun and hand grenades in the house. My family takes enough risks eating my leftovers.
We have a miniature carved wood Tiki totem of a Rastafarian. If he came to life, he could entertain us with Bob Marley songs. But he’d probably grow ganja in my garden and smoke it on the patio. No sense risking the wrath of the homeowners association.
I have a figurine of St. Francis of Assisi that a friend gave me as a housewarming gift years ago. It would be great if he came to life. He’d walk the dogs for me, clean out the litter boxes, keep our critters fed and brushed. And he could play doorman for the dogs, who want in, out, in, no-wait-I-changed-my-mind-I-want-back out at least a hundred times an hour.
If you could bring something in your house to life, what would it be and why?
One person who posts a comment today will receive a SWAG bag of fun goodies for Diane Kelly's Death and Taxes series. Check back around 9:00 PM central time to see if you've won! Book #1 in the Death and Taxes series is in bookstores and available at online booksellers now. Books #2 and #3 are available for per-order now. Visit Diane at www.dianekelly.com.
Posted by Diane Kelly at 12:01 AM
Friday, December 02, 2011
For the last few weeks I’ve been posting about my self-publishing numbers and, as promised, today I wanted to talk a little bit about what those numbers mean in terms of money earned. Generally, I’m not a huge fan of talking dollars and cents. Like most of us, I was taught that it’s not polite to talk about money. So I’m not going to go into exactly what my income from self-publishing has been. But the one thing that frustrated me the most when I first started looking at writing as a career was that there was no information about how much money I could expect to make. No one was sharing. Sure, everyone’s numbers were going to vary, but I knew there have to be some averages that I could expect. So I do want to share some of my numbers, especially my first few months self-publishing, in hopes that it can give other authors looking at this option some idea what they can expect.
When I first stepped into the digital self-publishing arena about 18 months ago, I wasn’t expecting much. Up until then, self-publishing had pretty much been synonymous with selling books out of the trunk of your car - not my idea of fun. However, I had a good friend, J.R. Rain, who was seeing amazing sales with this format. I think he nagged me for a good three months before I finally agreed to give it a try with one of my unsold manuscripts. But, like I said, I wasn’t expecting much. A couple of bucks here and there. Maybe enough to take the family to dinner once a month. However, extra money is extra money, right? So, what did I have to lose but a couple of days to make a cover and format my manuscript for ereaders? So I tried it out.
I put two short stories up on Kindle in May 2010. That month I sold 159 copies and made $82.68. I was pretty pleased. Clearly it wasn’t going to pay my rent, but it was enough to take my family out to dinner. Twice even, if we used coupons.
In June I sold a total of 169 copies (yay, 10 up from last month!) and made a total of $128.69. I could leave the coupons at home this month!
In July I did a little playing around with pricing, upping the price of both stories. I sold fewer - only 140 copies - but I ended up making more, a total of $271.80. Not bad for some extra cash. Hey, I could take my family out to eat once a week with that. So, at the end of July I decided to add a some full length novels to the mix, manuscripts that I’d written but had never sold to NY that were just gathering dust on my hard drive.
In August, with the addition of the novels, I made $973.42. And, off of Amazon UK, which had just become a self-pubb option that month, $9.19. Ohmigod, maybe I could pay some bills with this. Electric? Check! Water? Check! Groceries? Check! Woohoo!
And in September is where I started to see some real rent-paying potential. I made a total of $4,944.42 this month. I was blown away. Instead of sales slowing the longer my books had been out (like I usually saw with print books), they were growing by leaps and bounds each month.
And for anyone who is curious – I had done ZERO promo at this point. None at all. I didn’t even post about the new books to my newsletter/Facebook/etc. These were all readers that had found me via browsing Amazon.
In October of 2010, two things happened for me.
1) I got the rights back to all of my backlist, which included seven full length novels and one novella. I put all of those books up for sale on Kindle.
2) Barnes & Noble’s PubIt! came on the scene, so I quickly put all of my books up there as well.
At both venues I made a total of $8,988.60 that month. I was honestly sure there had been a typo somewhere in the vendors’ accounting. No way was this for real.
But it was. And things just started snowballing from there. The more books I added, the more sales for all of my titles grew. In late 2010 I put some of my titles up on Smashwords as well, which distributed them to Apple, Sony, Diesel, and Kobo. My sales started out small there (much like at Amazon), but slowly grew over time.
In addition to the unsold manuscripts that were given new life and my previously published backlist, I’ve also added new, original titles to my roster of self-published books. These have been amazingly well received by the ereading community. My latest ebook, FEARLESS IN HIGH HEELS, is currently (as I type this) sitting at #10 on the Barnes & Noble Bestseller list! It’s sold over 2000 copies in its first three days, so I couldn’t be happier.
Obviously everyone’s sales are going to be different, but I hope that this info helps somewhat in knowing what to expect when you’re starting out in self-publishing. I hear a lot of authors getting discouraged about slow sales to start with. Don’t be! Like I said, I made $82 in my first month. It’s totally normal to start out slow. Don’t worry. Just keep writing. :)
~Trigger Happy Halliday